Three Years
by PenroseSteps
Summary: They never thought they needed validation for their relationship before, but Eames gets the idea of proposing to Arthur.


It had only been three years since Robert Fischer, three years since "dream a little bigger, darling," three years since they finally professed they're love to each other quietly at baggage claim while the joy of making history with this job had yet to set in. But that didn't count the countless years they had spent dreaming, the lives they built together over and over by the seaside.

They already felt like they were a married couple, so they never found the need to make it official. Neither of them really felt like someone else's word made their relationship any more valid, and they rarely had enough time to plan a wedding anyway with their line of work. But one morning, while Arthur still dozed innocently next to him, his soft puffs of breath brushing his face and their bare legs entangled in each other, Eames had a thought he couldn't push away. It was an idea he had woken up with, as if he got it from a dream. He knew better than that, since so much Somnacin over the years meant he couldn't dream without it, but even after all this time with dreamless sleep, he could still remember that ghostly feeling.

He wanted to see Arthur walk down the aisle. He wanted to see the blush creep over cheeks and the coy smile he would make as they said their vows. He wanted to see his eyes glaze over with tears as he says "I do" while Eames himself shamelessly bawled. They didn't have time to organize a wedding, but they could make time

He couldn't think of anything that would make him happier.

So he made plans. It wasn't typical of them to celebrate milestones, so when Eames suggested they go to Sydney for their anniversary, Arthur just quirked an eyebrow. Eames counted his thin-lipped questionable look as approval, so he booked the flight and warned Arthur not to take any jobs during that week.

Eames chastised Arthur for secretly packing his laptop in his carry-on, and Arthur nagged at him for not bringing a single pair of matching socks, but despite their bickering, they both appreciated the prospect of spending time together for no other reason than to enjoy each other's company.

They spent a good amount of time at their ocean-side resort, which was really no surprise. They were no strangers to Sydney, having been there for both business and pleasure and had seen enough of the Opera House and museums and the Royal Botanic Gardens for a lifetime. They mostly just swam, or in most cases Eames would swim while Arthur would lounge in the sand reading architecture books or French literature and sip wine. He only protested about his paperback getting wet for a few seconds when a drenched Eames crawled over him, being silenced almost immediately by inhumanly soft lips covering his own. They kept it chaste outside their room, but as soon as their door clicked shut behind them, Arthur was up against it, Eames' scruff scratching red marks against the sensitive skin of his neck and a knee between his thighs.

It was romantic. It was comfortable. And Eames hoped when he took Arthur to a café the last morning of the trip, it would be magical.

The café wasn't anything unique really, just a small one-off place trying to be another Starbucks. It was only special to Arthur and Eames, being the first place they went after the Inception job was complete. It was where Eames first learned that Arthur liked his coffee black, which didn't surprise him in the least. It was where Arthur gained the courage to reach out and cover Eames' hand with his on the table, where Eames grinned and turned his palm face up so they could entwine their fingers. Outside the place was where they shared their first kiss, the one they were waiting for so long for that it was almost anticlimactic when it finally happened. And now, it was going to be the place where Eames proposed.

The original plan was to wait until they were done with their coffee and sandwiches, to casually stroll outside and for Eames to get down on one knee in front of the bench they kissed on. But each second felt like several minutes as Arthur seemed to eat tortuously slow, as if he knew what was coming and wanted to drive Eames out of his mind. Arthur had to tell him to stop bouncing his leg at least three times because he kept shaking the table. When Eames went to take a drink and missed his mouth completely, Arthur knew something was wrong and asked what the hell was going on.

It was now or never. He was only going to make even more of a fool out of himself if he tried to keep up the charade any longer. He reached his hand into the pocket of his cargo shorts, which Arthur eyed suspiciously.

Eames got up out of his chair. "Could you stand for me, love?"

Arthur's eyebrows furrowed, but he did as he was asked, setting the napkin that was in his lap on the table before getting to his feet.

Eames took him by the hand with the one that wasn't still in his pocket. "I'm not going to get sentimental, because if I did, the words would be jumbled up and I would look like a total prat, so I'll just get to the point."

Arthur caught on quickly when Eames got down on one knee.

"Would you marry me?" he just barely managed to get out. He held out a simple silver band for Arthur and held his breath as he waited for an answer.

For a moment, Arthur seemed speechless, his eyes wider than Eames had ever seen them, but he recovered the use of his voice quickly. "No way," he said breathlessly.

That was not the answer Eames was expecting at all. He visibly slumped and let go of his hand. "Oh…"

"No, that's not what I meant," Arthur corrected quickly before Eames could think of something else to say. "I wasn't saying no, I just…" Arthur reached into the back pocket of his jeans, pulling out a little velvet box.

A revelation hit Eames, making him beam smugly. "Oh, darling, you shouldn't have."

"I kept trying to ask you, but I just…" Arthur trailed off with a shrug, his cheeks burning red. He opened the box to show off the ring he had gotten, one that was also silver but with subtle swirling markings engraved into it.

"It's perfect," Eames commented, taking to his feet. "I'm taking that as a yes then?"

"Only on the condition that I'm not wearing a dress," Arthur snarked.

"Well I'm sure as hell not wearing one," Eames replied.

"I wouldn't want to see you in one anyway," Arthur said with a smirk.

After they shared a kiss that tasted of coffee and sat through a round of applause from the employees and customers Arthur and Eames had forgotten about in their moment, they left the café hand in hand, silver glinting on their fingers.


End file.
